


The New Old World

by TruebornAlpha



Series: Fallout Wolf [2]
Category: Fallout 4, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fallout, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 13:10:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6855985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 2287, paranoia is at an all-time high. As the shadowy Institute works its insidious presence, and the Brotherhood of Steel darkens the Commonwealth's doorstep, Scott McCall, a synth like no other, struggles to make a life for himself in Diamond City. Taking up the controversial role of Synth Hunter, he's thrown into a conspiracy that will threaten everything he knows about himself and the future of the Commonwealth. Meanwhile, an old face from his past reemerges, but the Stiles Stilinski he knew is long dead, and the man wearing his face isn't one Scott is sure he can trust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

2287 wasn’t a good year to be a synth. Arguably there were no good years, but 2287 was worse than all the others, especially for a synth in Diamond City. Paranoia was at an all-time high behind the great Wall. People joked that you couldn’t throw a stone without hitting a synth, and every time a bulb burst, someone was willing to blame the shadowy Institute, but no one was brave enough to admit how serious they really were. The Brotherhood was darkening the Commonwealth’s doorstep, and the Minutemen were long gone. Most people thought that was a downright shame, but some silly folk seemed to think that the Minutemen would help synths, the good synths. Of course, there were more folk who happily shot down the idea that there were any good synth. No one could know for sure where the Minutemen would stand. No one except Scott McCall, and Scott was an exception to a lot of things.

He’d shown up on a regular day, in the middle of a regular week, a wanderer the Commonwealth hadn’t chewed apart but a not-so-regular one. The Commonwealth had already taken a bite out of him, a big one. One everyone could see. Half of his face was missing, just by his nose and the corner of his lip. Gone was the entirety of his left cheek, the edge of his jaw, and parts of his ear because where skin should have been lived live wires and sleek metal. 

Scott McCall was a synth. He should have been shot on sight.

But he wasn’t. He’d earned his keep. Anyone who lived in Diamond City long enough to scratch their ass knew that Scott McCall was one of a kind. He was the one people called when they needed to fill a job of a specific variety, the sort of jobs that required too much curiosity, a steady hand, and the ability to punch a guy through a wall, occasionally (or more often than not, to take a punch from a guy who could punch you through a wall). 

It was the sort of set up that should have won Scott a lot of friends, and in theory, did. The mayor fixed Scott up nice and cozy in a property outside the market he called Home Plate, after he did a particularly good job. Diamond City should have welcomed him with open arms, but their smiles were strained, they either refused to meet his eye or never stopped staring. There was only one Synth Hunter in the Commonwealth. No one could readily say if that was a good thing or not.

It was a moniker the mayor had dug up, around the same time he’d handed Scott his apartment key. Scott couldn’t really say he liked it. There were no tests, medical, psychological or magical that could determine if there was metal hiding under flesh, but Scott was a detective before he was anything else. McCall Detective Agency was just a fancy painted sign, but he liked to think that it was enough to inspire a certain type of credibility.

Not that what he called himself mattered, he knew how Diamond City saw him. He was their boogeyman come to life. Judge and jury, Santa Claus with a scythe. They told their children stories about him to keep them in check, and lauded his work from the rooftops. 

“Real people don’t have anything to fear,” was easy to claim as fear for the mysterious Institute and their sinister synths seeped in, but no one wanted to be seen talking to him for too long. Scott relished the irony. They liked him for as long as he was right. The moment he messed up, he had no doubt public favor would turn on him. Perhaps it was just waiting for the chance to. Lucky for him – and them by extension – he wasn’t just a detective.

He was a damned good one.

Even as he crashed through the roof of RADI-O-ACTIVE, just on the fringes of the market. That was okay. He’d taken Zachary Askew with him. Zack had lived in Diamond City for as long as anyone could remember. When he first showed up, he mopped the floors at the Dugout Inn and sometimes worked the grill until he decided to put his temper to good use as a city guard, instead of flaying brahmin skins. Two months ago, around the time he returned from a trip down south, he’d stopped beating his kids.

Scott was fast, but Zack got his feet under him sooner. They broke out into the market, to the shocked horror of every customer and vendor in the area, not because of the fight, but because they recognized Scott. They recognized what it all meant. Even if Scott let Zack go now, even if he was wrong, it was too late. He’d signed the man’s death warrant, just by being seen with him in public. Sometimes that was too much power for anyone to bear, but not now. Now, he was still on the job.

They tussled, slamming into a stack of crates that toppled over them. Metal and wood crashed into Scott’s back, but it was Zack who screamed. When it was all over, Scott had him on the ground, his pipe revolver pistol leveled at his head as he straddled his hips. A hush had fallen over the market. They were staring, even when they were pretending not to. Scott made every one of them, and he didn’t even have to lift his head.

“Ya got the wrong guy, Scott. You know me, come on. Come on man, we’ve worked together before. Please, I gotta family,” Zack slurred, eyes wide with terror. His lisp sounded as it always had, but Scott quietly counted the words per minute in his speech pattern. It was faster now, rounding evenly. Another reinforcement to all the evidence he’d gathered. 

“Hey, Natty.” He said, barely looking up. “Could you take Pete somewhere else please?”  
Nat Wright, cool as a cucumber, rested her hand on the little Pete Pembroke’s shoulder, and guided him away with a cheerful smile. It looked like Scott was going to be in the paper tomorrow.

Scott wished there was another way, but he could feel Zack’s strength between his thighs, and a troop of city guards were making their way towards them. They weren’t going to like this. Scott had specifically timed this encounter for when Zack was off-duty, for when his daughter was at school and his wife was making deliveries. He hoped that this was the part where easy came in, but it never worked out that way.

Scott didn’t say he was sorry, but when he pulled the trigger, it was a clear shot. Someone screamed, and for a moment, blood seeped into the market’s packed dirt. Scott didn’t pull away until black seeped into the red. The synth’s oil reserves collapsed. He dusted himself off, put away his gun. There was a time his hands would’ve shook, even if he didn’t have nerve ending. A time his stomach would’ve twisted, even if he didn’t have one of those, too.

“All right, show’s over.” A clear, orotund voice broke through the air, commanding obedience and respect. Captain Vernon Boyd IV was on scene. Boyd was a tall, black man, built like a brick wall. His no-nonsense efficiency earned him his superior’s respect, and more importantly, his troop’s loyalty. Scott gave way deferentially. Zack might not have been one of his men, but Boyd had more of a right to him than Scott did. 

There weren’t many people who touched Scott anymore, but Boyd wasn’t most people. Without a hint of hesitation, he clapped Scott on the shoulder, guiding him away from where his men were inspecting the synth. Whether it was just to get him alone or to offer some sort of comfort, Scott didn’t know, but he appreciated it anyway.

“How long?”

Scott almost smiled. They’d been doing this for long enough that he didn’t need clarification. It didn’t matter one way or the other, he’d work with him either way, but Scott wanted Boyd to like him. He hoped he did. That helped when they were dealing with messy business like this. “Two months, I’m sure of, but probably more.” he said. “Zachary Askew’s long gone.”

Boyd didn’t look surprised, but he didn’t look happy, either. Two months was a long time.

Scott swallowed thickly. “Hey, can you make sure that someone looks out for his wife and kid? You know how people are like when they’re-“

“Scared and stupid?” Boyd finished for him, snorting dryly. Scott cracked a smile. He hope they stayed in town. It got hard sometimes. People started seeing conspiracies everywhere after a bust, and there was too much of a chance that someone would think Zack’s widow was guilty of intentionally hiding him or worse, a synth herself. “What about you?”

“Me?” 

“Yeah.” Boyd gave him a pointed once over, but the arm on Scott’s shoulder felt heavier. He wasn’t sure. His pressure sensors weren’t always accurate, and casual contact was a rarity. If he leaned into the captain a little further, well, Boyd let him. “Like maybe a drink.”

“I dunno. But do you know if the mayor’s in?” Scott said, and he loathed to turn down the offer. Business wasn’t over yet. It must’ve shown on his face. Boyd sounded even more dry than usual, and he had to laugh. 

“Why? Going to ask for the key to the city?”

“Nope, just a name change. Doesn’t Scott City sound better anyway?”

And he liked it when Boyd laughed with him.

“Well give it an hour. There was some talk today about a meeting. It’ll give you a chance to clean up.”

Scott looked down at himself, only to grimace. He’d need a new shirt. “That- yeah. That’s a plan. I think I have to…” He pulled away, and Boyd let him go but slowly.

“We’ll take it from here,” the captain offered. Scott wished he didn’t have to go. They were dragging the synth away in bits and pieces. He’d probably be worth more to Diamond City now than Zack ever had been. Scott didn’t let him get away completely.

“Cap, when you get off duty, can I see you about that drink?”

It was hard to tell with Boyd sometimes, but Scott was pretty sure he was smiling as he walked away.

His office was empty when he got back. Scott counted that as a win. McCall Detective Agency was also Yukimura’s Emporium of Weapons et al. Kira Yukimura of said emporium had a considerably bigger sign than his. Considering they shared the same office space, he always thought that was cute. He just wasn’t sure he could handle dealing with one of her over enthusiastic customers. Kira did some of the best work in Diamond City, and that tended to attract the most detail-oriented people. Kira would have called them ‘anal,’ and then blushed. Scott wished she was here now.

The office was a modest affair. He’d transported the living room of his property on Home Plate to accommodate two desks and a work station, complete with welding capabilities. Kira always said she liked it, but she was always bothered by how difficult it was to connect to a supply route for some reason. Scott didn’t know about that, but he liked being able to find his bed down the corridor after a long day’s work.

He was pulling on a fresh shirt, and considering burning his old one when someone let themselves into his office. Scott stepped out just in time to watch a large, hulking monstrosity of copper and steal hobbled into his office. Off popped the large glass head shield, to reveal warm eyes and a gentle smile. 

“Heard what happened downtown. Are you okay?” The armor she wore was easily twice her size, but Kira commanded it without the slightest difficulty. Brilliant and resourceful, impossibly kind and brighter than the sun, she was a scavenger and survivor from a time Scott didn’t like to think about. He owed her and her family his life. They were the only reason he returned to Diamond City, not that there was anyone who would remember him from his first trip. He was a different person back then. Far less self-aware.

“Already?” Scott said, aiming for glib, but he must have missed. Kira crossed the room to pull him into an embrace. He could break her just like this, if he wanted to, snap her bones and break her back. For the longest time, that terrified him. She was never afraid of him. 

Never.

Kira held on tight, and Scott couldn’t help but give in, tucking his face into her shoulder as his own drooped, sighing deeply. He could hear the turning of gears, the grind of metal and knew he’d never need to breathe. It still helped. 

“His family liked him better that way.” Scott whispered. “That’s the worst part. His wife – Samantha, she thought things were getting better between them.”

“He would have hurt them eventually.” Kira said, knowing that Scott already knew that, but sometimes it was easier to accept when someone else could share the burden.

“I know that, but…”

“Yeah. I know.”

“I asked him, you know, if he knew what he was. If he was aware enough not to hurt them.” Scott swallowed thickly. “I can’t keep doing that. One day I’ll mess up, and everyone’ll know.” It didn’t matter that none of the synths he’d caught ever owned up to it. If he made a mistake and the wrong person heard, he didn’t think the people of Diamond City would wait an hour before driving him out of town. Scott knew from experience. Humans weren’t the most forgiving.

There was always that moment of doubt, while Scott waited for their wiring to give away and the disguise to fall apart. He hadn’t been wrong yet.

“That’s why I help you.” Kira said. She could have meant just checking his work, going over his notes as well as he did before he played his hand, but Scott read something deeper in that. He would never forget to be careful, as long as Kira was by his side.

“We make a good team.”   
The silence settled between them, slowly growing more comfortable. Kira pulled away first, but Scott was ready to let her go. He helped put away her armor. He kind of hoped she wasn’t going to keep it inside. It was a little cramped at Home Plate. 

“So… Two months.” Kira ventured. Scrubbing her hand over her face. “This is a mess.”

“You’re telling me. I’m going to try and catch the mayor soon. Warm them, or try to, but two months.” Scott figured if he said it enough times, that would make things better. It didn’t. “Dammit, sometimes you just don’t want to be right.”

“This is why we should get a dog. They boost happiness levels.” Kira said, the non-sequitur enough to throw him a laugh. He didn’t think that was how things were supposed to work, but somehow, they did.

“I’ll see what I can do.”


	2. Chapter 2

Mayor McDonough was a proficient politician, which was probably why Scott never really liked him. Scott knew he was helping to keep the mayor in power. A couple of public shake downs in a year and people remained confident that their mayor was keeping them protected. It was all in the name of fear mongering, and he had a long history of that. If Scott didn’t think he was actually making a difference, he would have stopped on principle. Besides, he would rather work with the mayor’s office rather than against it. He was greeted as soon as he stepped off the elevator.

“Scott, m’boy! Welcome, I was wondering when you’d show up. We all heard about your work in the marketplace. Spectacular as always.”

“Thank you, sir.” Scott smiled like he meant it, and it was just as difficult as he thought it would be. It always felt like the mayor was putting a show on for someone, but for the life of him, Scott couldn’t figure out who it was. Other than his secretary and guards, they were alone. “If you’re not busy now, can we talk in private? It’s about Zachary Askew.”

“Of course, of course. This matter takes top priority.” Scott wondered if he’d imagined it, but the mayor’s expression looked stiffer. It didn’t make sense, when the mayor waved him into his office without preamble. He already looked unhappy. 

The mayor sat down heavily in his chair, before pulling out a heavy looking flask from under his desk. “Drink?” He asked, quirking a brow. When Scott shook his head, he grumbled, “Figured your kind wouldn’t. All right, son, what’s the problem?”

Scott took another one of those breaths he didn’t need, tried not to taste his own disappointment. “Based on my investigation, sir, Zack Askew’s been missing for two months, but it could’ve been longer.”

“Two months? Fucking Hell, McCall, couldn’t you have said something sooner?”

Scott didn’t bat an eye. “No, sir.”

McDonough looked like he wanted to rip his hair out. Scott felt ridiculously pleased by that.

The mayor poured himself a generous glass of amber colored liquid, and took an equally generous drink. “Two months, okay then. So we’re looking at…”

“The ranks might be compromised.” Scott said. “Whatever the synth might’ve picked up might already be relayed to his superiors, and there’s too much of a chance that there are others, like him.”

“Others? Synths?” McDonough demanded, sounding insulted by the very possibility. Something twisted in Scott’s chest, right next to where his heart should have been, but he remained still. “Do you know what you’re saying? I will not go around accusing our guards of – of!” He grew steadily redder as he struggled with the words, and in the end, the mayor couldn’t bring himself to say them. “Without proof no less!”

“Of course, sir, but I’m not making accusations. None of the other guards have given me reason to suspect anything’s wrong, but it’s a possibility. I thought you ought to consider it.”

McDonough looked like he wished Scott had kept his worries to himself, and he downed the rest of his glass with a sullen glare. Scott waited. He wouldn’t hold the mayor’s anger against him. Humans couldn’t change their nature.

“This conversation doesn’t leave the room.” McDonough said, at length. “Or people will start jumping at their own shadows. Do you have a plan or are you just trying to shock me into retirement?” He was far too brusque to be joking, but Scott pretended that he was anyway.

“I want to find out everything I can about Zachary Askew’s trip down south. It’s most likely where he was taken.” Or so Scott hoped. If he was wrong, the implications were far more sinister. He didn’t think anyone was ready to face the possibility that Diamond City was already harvesting grounds for the Institute. “But if I start asking questions, well, let’s just say people don’t think I’m overly friendly, Mr. Mayor.”

McDonough sent him a dirty look, and in that moment, Scott was sure that if the mayor could throw him out of his office, he would’ve and completely bypassed the elevator, too. But he didn’t. There was only one Synth Hunter in the Commonwealth, after all. “So my men’ll do the questioning, but I want you to find out everything you can about his trip? I can’t do anything based on the assumption that the whole world’s out to screw us. I mean it is, but, what can you do?”

“I think that’s up to you and your office, sir.” Scott replied slowly, voice modulated for something resembling calm. “But I’ll come back with something to help you make that decision.”

If he came back at all. The words hung unsaid between them, and after too long, McDonough had to pour himself another drink. Once, perhaps, decades ago, Scott would have been scared. The Commonwealth was a terrifying place, but it was a terrifying place that he’d called home for a long time, far beyond Diamond City’s impenetrable Wall. Besides, he was really good at finding his way home, when he had one at least.

“Do you want something? For your…” The mayor gestured to Scott’s face, wrinkling his nose as he did. 

It took all of his self-control, but Scott just shook his head. “No, thank you. I like it when people know what they’re dealing with.”

McDonough poured himself another drink. This time Scott joined him.

Scott left Diamond City the day he got his intel. As far as he was concerned, it came just in time. People had started staring again. It was impossible to ignore, even with Kira chattering animatedly by his side. It would be a couple of weeks before they stopped, and Scott had no desire to play the carnival freak show for their entertainment. 

Then it was just him and the open road. 

He headed south west, towards a place called Hardware Town, where Zack was supposed to have family. Kira had wanted to come with him, and Scott still wasn’t sure he was right to turn down her company. It would be a long walk. Then again, so was everywhere in the Commonwealth.

Scott didn’t need to take breaks, but sometimes he did anyway. It had been far too long since he’d been a wanderer. He knew how to survive with nothing but the shirt on his back, a handful of bottle caps, and a bag that fit way too much shit. It was how he first came across the Yukimuras, back when they had a settlement to call home, and he was convinced he could still find his. In a way, he kind of did, and it was a home he didn’t programmed into him, either.

Eventually, the dirt road hardened, and Hardware Town came across the horizon. It wasn’t the Wall, but sight of buildings creeping over the blue sky held their own comfort. It came in equal parts with dread. The gutted skeletons of a bygone era were more than enough to twist into shelters, and sometimes the neighborhood welcome wagon bit hard. 

Scott got off the main road. He could turn off his pain receptors, but he was going to avoid being blown to smithereens if he could help it.

He approached under the cover of the surrounding shrubbery, and noticed almost immediately that the town appeared deserted. That should have been his first clue to turn around. He didn’t. Scott often wondered if his curiosity was a product of too much time around reckless humans, or just really, really bad programming.

Well, he did like his humans reckless. 

A battle had ravaged the town, just like it had nearly every other building in the Commonwealth. He kept his revolver locked and loaded, and listened for the telltale signs of a deathclaw. He figured if he was prepared for the worst, everything else would come easy, and there wasn’t much worse in any universe than a deathclaw.

Then he heard it, a cry for help, soft and garbled. Scott’s first thought was that someone must have been injured. The thought that followed quickly after that, was that something was on the loose that could injure people. Yet it still only took him a moment to make up his mind.

He approached slowly, keeping to back alleys and side streets as he followed the voice closer. Scott found its source in front of a pair of big red doors, presented like a lamb for slaughter, in tattered clothes, hunched on themselves and trembling. Scott was willing to bet they were a kidnapped settler. He’d seen the type before. Lost, confused, scared out of their minds or possibly drugged so high, all they could do was cry. They seemed to be alone for now, and it was an advantage he wasn’t going to waste.

Crossing town proper, Scott rushing to the settler’s side. The settler met his gaze with teary eyes, wide and hurt. And the barrel of his gun.

Two things happened simultaneously that Scott couldn’t appreciate. In the distance, there was a shout, the words garbled in Scott’s ears when all he could hear was the shot fired at his chest.

Instinct propelled him forward, and he lunged at the settler, driving them down before diving for cover as bullets flew overhead. Instead of trying for the doors, he rushed for the adjacent alley, ducking behind it as he struggled to catch his bearings. His chest felt like it was throbbing around bullets that were lodged in metal and wires. He pulled one out gingerly and could almost hear the clink as it dropped to the floor.

Stupid. He thought grimly, hugging the wall. Didn’t the Minutemen teach you anything?

The fire fight hadn’t stopped, but it was dying down, and Scott knew that sometime soon, sometime very soon, this would all end. They were going to come for him, and he didn’t have enough advantages to guarantee his survival. He couldn’t stay holed up or someone would come along and pick him out. Gathering the last of his energy, Scott stumbled deeper an alleyway. If he could keep moving, he could make repairs. Nothing would have made him stop or so he thought. Then someone called him by name.

“Scott?” 

The synth spun around despite every ounce of common sense he possessed telling him to run, and every protest he could fathom died in his throat. He came face to face with a ghost.

Unfamiliar hard lines transformed a face Scott thought he’d never see again into something almost completely foreign. Metal dug into skin where it was fused together. A bright, red eye looked out where his left had been.

Stiles Stilinski was a vision, a nightmare brought to light to haunt him. Old memories assaulted him, hitting as hard as any bullet. They threatened to drag him down and take him apart. Long buried rage swept through him, as if there weren’t decades between them, and through it all there was hope. Painful, reckless hope as he stared down the man who used to be his best friend, the only person whose betrayal ever mattered.

Stiles leveled a gun at his head. When he fired, Scott didn’t even flinch.

A cold chill settled over his bones as a body hit the dirt. Scott couldn’t believe he was still standing. Behind him, a raider twitched on the ground as he gave into his injuries. Then Stiles was on him, hands fisted in his shirt, dragging him in and Scott's grip tightened on his gun, but Stiles kissed him. He kissed him like nothing else mattered, like no time had passed, like Boston had never happened. He kissed him like he used to, and Scott's knees went weak.

"I'm never letting you go again."

The shooting had finally stopped.

**Author's Note:**

> Hap Birt Day Rune!


End file.
